


subtle (yet sharp)

by katierosefun



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: [set pre-3x01] Alex didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved to find Strand waiting in front of her apartment, but there he was. (Or, after "falling off the radar" for so long, Richard Strand owes Alex Reagan an explanation.)





	subtle (yet sharp)

Alex didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved to find Strand waiting in front of her apartment, but there he was. Nic had called her on her way home from the studio, saying that Richard Strand was, indeed, back.

“He came into the studio just when you took the elevator out,” Nic had told her over the phone. “I told him he just missed you.”

Alex hadn’t known how to respond. “Okay,” was all she managed to say before hanging up. She knew that Nic wanted to add something more to the conversation—but Alex hadn’t had the patience to sound out her thoughts or listen to what her friend had to say. If she was going to deal with Richard Strand, she needed to do it by herself.

So there they were.

“Hi.” Even to her own ears, Alex’s voice sounded a million miles away. “It’s been…a while.”

Strand shifted his weight from foot to foot. “It has,” he replied shortly. “I was away.”

“Well, _that_ much is obvious,” Alex said, shoving her hands in her coat pockets. She looked Strand up and down. He looked…somewhat better than the last time Alex had seen him. (Which was back at his house, that day when Simon had left his little message about the Mysterium recordings. They had all been so tired.) Right now, Strand still looked tired, with bruise-colored circles under his eyes and his glasses slightly smudged, but his posture was straighter. He didn’t seem to be as weighed down as he used to—which Alex, despite herself, was relieved to see.

And God, was she pissed to even feel relief.

It had been weeks.

Weeks since she had heard from Strand last.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked at last.

“Nic told me you were going home early,” Strand replied. “I figured I should…stop by.”

“Stop by?” Alex repeated, not bothering to hide her disbelief. _Stopping by_ was a term reserved for neighbors coming to water plants. _Stopping by_ was a term reserved for a mailman with new packages. _Stopping by_ was a term reserved for an annoying sibling coming over to visit for an hour. Richard Strand did not get to use the term _stopping by._ He had moved past that term by now— _they_ had moved past that term by now.

“You were gone,” Alex said, pushing past Strand as she rooted through her pocket for her keys. “You here to explain that?” She jammed her keys into the lock. The stupid lock wouldn’t give way. She tried shoving her keys in again—and again, the lock wouldn’t give.

Alex heard Strand sigh behind her. “Alex—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Alex interrupted, keeping her fingers clutched tightly around her keys. She closed her eyes briefly, then re-opened them to find that her fingers had gone white from holding the keys so tightly. “Don’t say my name like that.”

There was a silence.

Then: “I think I owe an explanation to both you and Nic.”

“To both Nic and me?” Alex asked, turning the key again. This time, the lock gave way—but Alex only pushed the door open a small crack, ready to slide in and—what? Slam the door in Strand’s face? For a minute, Alex was sorely tempted to do so.

But then she remembered that Strand was actually standing behind her. Actually standing _behind_ her, rather than just being an invisible presence (as he had been the last few weeks).

(She knew she’d hate herself if she slammed the door in his face.)

“If you wanted to explain something to us, then you could have just called me back to the studio,” Alex said at last, still facing the door. “You have my phone number. You could have called. At any time,” she added at the last second, not bothering to hide the resentment from her voice.

Strand’s voice was soft when he spoke.

“You know why I wanted to come here first.”

“Do I, Richard?” Alex asked incredulously, turning her head just the barest of a fraction—just enough to catch Strand watching her out of the corner of her eye. She could see the glint of his blue eyes catching the fluorescent lights of the hallway. It was unfair for his eyes to be that bright—that reflective.

“I…” Strand hesitated. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

Alex turned back to her door.

“You know I’m annoyed, right?” she asked at last.

“I know.”

“You could have at least left a message,” Alex said quietly, resting her forehead against the door. “Nic was worried. _I_ was worried. I thought something…” Her breath caught in her throat. “I thought something might have happened to you.”

Something warm pressed against her shoulder. It was a light touch—a tentative touch, the kind of touch that came from someone who was hoping the other wouldn’t pull away—but it was still something. “Nothing happened to me, Alex,” Strand said slowly. “Nothing’s _happening_.”

Alex knew she should push Strand’s hand away. She should.

(God, she couldn’t.)

“I…listened to some of the podcast while I was away. One of your sleep notes.” Strand’s voice took a different turn—one a bit more concerned, one a bit more gentle. “Have you been…sleeping better since then?”

 _That_ made Alex push Strand’s hand away. “You don’t get to ask that,” she said, turning around to face him. “You aren’t allowed.”

“Alex—”

“ _No_ ,” Alex said roughly, taking a step back. “You don’t get to go off radar and come back worried about what _I’ve_ been doing. That’s not how this _works_.”

“Then how does it work?” Strand asked, something new creeping under his voice—not exactly impatience, not exactly anger. Urgent, maybe.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, exasperated. “I just—” She threw up her hands, forgetting all about her stupid keys and the stupid lock and the stupid door. She could only focus on Richard Strand’s _stupid_ face and his _stupid_ eyes and his _stupid_ voice. “I needed _something_.”

“You…needed something.” A question.

“I needed to know you weren’t going to disappear.” An implication.

“…I’m not going to disappear.”

Alex lifted her face to Strand. Met his eyes (still blue, still bright, still cool). Noticed they were standing closer together. She wasn’t sure when that had happened, but she wasn’t complaining.

Then, she breathed, “Prove it.”

And she wasn’t sure who moved first—it might have been her, but it might have been him. Or maybe it was both of them, but all that really mattered was that Alex’s lips were crashing against Strand’s, and his lips were crashing against hers.

Somehow, Alex’s hands found the back of Strand’s neck—and she felt his hands creep up her back. The two stumbled back, right into Alex’s door. Alex let out a small cry of surprise, and for a painstakingly abrupt moment, Strand broke away, asking, “Was that—”

“No,” Alex quickly said, stooping down to grab her keys. “Just—give me a moment—”

As she worked the lock, she felt Strand’s hot breath tickling her ear. “I’m still waiting to prove your point, Alex.”

Alex felt a welcome heat rush up her face. She shoved open the door—and a second later, both Strand and she were rushing inside the apartment. Alex just barely got to close the door behind themselves before Strand hoisted her up against him.

\--

“I was with Charlie.”

Strand’s fingers were stroking the outer curve of Alex’s bare thigh. His touches were light (at least, _now_ they were—just a little while ago, Alex learned that when Strand was urgent enough, his hands would get anywhere and everywhere…not that Alex was complaining), his voice barely more than a low hum in Alex’s ear.

“With Charlie?” Alex asked, turning around to face him.

“We needed to figure some things out,” Strand replied, flicking his eyes briefly away from Alex. “I needed…to tell her about Coralee.”

Alex felt something needle into her chest—a subtle (yet sharp) pain. Of course, Strand would have to tell his daughter about Coralee.

Coralee, who left Strand again.

Coralee, who loved Strand.

Coralee, who Strand was probably looking for. Still.

“Alex.”

“Mm?” Alex lifted her eyes to meet Strand’s. She didn’t know when he had started looking at her again. “That’s…good,” she heard herself say. “Charlie should know.” She cleared her throat. “Did you two…work things out?”

“Some of it.”

“But not all…?”

“Like I said, some of it.”

Alex blinked. “Right,” she said. She waited just a moment before asking, “Do you…want to talk about it?”

Strand hesitated—and for a second, Alex thought he might say something. But then, he shook his head the slightest fraction of an inch.

“Okay.” Alex said. “That’s fine.”

“Surprised to hear you say that.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s…” She thought about Coralee again. And then she thought about Strand, his back to her as he quietly poured out drinks for them. She thought about how Strand’s shoulders rounded over, how tired and sad his voice had gotten.

“It’s your life,” she said at last. “And it’s your family.” Alex lifted her eyes to Strand’s. “I just want to know if you’re…okay.” A beat. “Are you?”

A corner of Strand’s lips tugged into a halfhearted smile.

“It’s a serious question,” Alex said, though she couldn’t help but smile a little, too. “Don’t just look at me like that—so are you? Okay?” She added.

“More okay than before.”

Alex closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Strand’s chest. “Okay.” She said quietly. “Then we’ll work at this from here.”

She felt Strand’s hands move from her thigh to her back as his chin rested against the top of her head.

“We’ll work at this from here,” he agreed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Two Stragan fics in two days. Didn't mean for this to happen, but I came home last night, and I listened to too much of my Stragan playlist on Spotify. 
> 
> As always, reviews and kudos are appreciated! (Also, I was half-considering writing an actual sex scene, but I chickened out at the last second. Use your imagination.)


End file.
